


Everything Will Be All Right

by Exterminatorviolence



Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, after the game, quick write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exterminatorviolence/pseuds/Exterminatorviolence
Summary: After the game, Danny is just trying hold onto the ground as it keeps shifting and struggling to keep up his head as his heart falls out of sight. Julian is there to help him.





	Everything Will Be All Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrikersInDanger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikersInDanger/gifts).



> This was the fastest I've ever written a 2500 word thing. So much confusion and hurt going on in New England right now. I don't know what next season is gonna be like at all, people leaving and all that. But, let's not think about that right now. Let's have some consoling fanfiction and just relax. 
> 
> Title and summary from: [Holding to the Ground](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNc_gjprCMo) from Falsettos. Ugh, this song though.
> 
> For both StrikersInDanger and Patriots1180

It’s heartbreaking. There isn’t another word for it. To walk off that field with the wrong colored confetti falling down around him...it hurts worse than breaking up with his first love in high school, worse than not getting called during the Draft, worse than losing out on seasons because of injuries. It just...hurts. 

Julian is there, because of course he is, and he looks like his heart is broken too. Julian is there in the locker room, waiting for them - waiting for  _ him _ and he can’t even bear to look at the blonde. He feels like he's failed Julian in some way, even though he knows that’s not the case. And he knows Julian wanted to be on that field; would’ve given  _ anything _ and  _ everything  _ to be on that field, and that hurts too.

“‘Dola…”

“No. No, don’t,” He says. “I can’t handle if you’re about to make a teary apology,” His shoulders slump. “I really, really can’t.”

There’s a sigh and then Julian is wrapping his arms around him. “I wasn’t going to say that, you know. I was just gonna say that I know how this feels and it’s going to feel like the worst feeling in the world.”

Danny gives in and slumps into Julian, resting his forehead on the other's shoulder. “We could’ve won. We  _ should’ve _ won. I should’ve thrown that ball better -”

“Hey,” Julian says, cutting him off. “This isn’t your fault. We’re a team, win or lose, always a team."

It doesn’t feel like they’re a team. He heard Malcolm slam his helmet against the lockers, pissed because he was benched. He saw Rob’s tired face and heard his quiet  _ I don’t know if I’m coming back next season _ . He saw Tom leave without saying anything, saw as he swallowed down the sadness and bitter taste of disappointment because he had to go meet with the media. Coordinators are leaving, players will be cut, traded, or released - hell, Danny isn’t even sure  _ he’s  _ going to here next season.

“The team feels broken,” He admits.

Julian makes a small noise. “I know. I know.”

And Danny never understood crying after losing games - he didn’t win enough games back in St. Louis to even know the feeling of winning, but, god, tears are stinging the back of his eyes, the team feels like it’s falling apart, and they  _ didn’t win _ .

“I don’t wanna talk to the media,” He whispers. He isn’t sure when, but Julian has started to move them gently, not quite rocking and not quite swaying. It’s nice.

“It’ll be okay,” Julian says, shifting so he can look at Danny’s face. “You’ll be okay. Hey, look at me. You’re going to be okay because this is football. You play the game to win, but sometimes you don’t, and you keep this feeling for next season to motivate you further.”

Danny clenches his jaw. Julian’s eyes seem too blue. “What if I’m not back here next season?” He asks in a terse whisper. “What if they don’t want to keep me? I...another pay cut? That’s what they’ll want...you know it’s what they’ll want.”

“No,” Julian says firmly. “You are not...you  _ can’t _ go to another team. I won’t let them get rid of you,” He says it with such conviction that it sounds like they’re talking about something more life threatening than football.

“I’m not about to go into the Hunger Games,” He tries to joke. It falls flat.

“Maybe not,” Julian agrees. “But I need you here. I can’t have you off in Houston or Indy or Buffalo or anywhere else but here; lined up next to me on the field or sleeping in our bed,”

Danny swallows thickly. “Let’s go home.” He pleads.

“I wish we could,” Julian holds his face between his hands. “But you’ve gotta talk to the media, avoiding it will make it worse. You’ll be fine. I’ll be there when you’re done and then we can hole up in our hotel room until we leave tomorrow morning,”

“Alright,” Danny acquiesces, knowing he really doesn’t have a choice. He takes a breath. “Alright, I can do this. I’m...I can do this.”

The reporters don’t care how much it hurts, they don’t care about feelings or post game emotions. Sure, they ask how it feels, but they don’t care. They ask because they’re journalists and they want to get something good to use out of context to create stories and rumors and get clicks and reads. They’re waiting for the first sign of weakness or a crack in the mask so they can write about how they’re sore losers or don’t have mental toughness. Danny wants to scoff at them all because what the fuck do they know about losing a game like this? What do they know about how it feels? None of them have played a damn game in their life.

They ask about the strip sack -  _ what happened during that play? _ Like Danny could tell them what happened while he was running a route and not at all near Tom. They ask  _ how did you feel when you saw that the Eagles had recovered the ball?  _ Like they don’t know it felt like his heart was being crushed. They ask about Chris Long -  _ he’s the one who made the play.  _ Like he can say anything else but compliment him on being a good player and wishing him well. They ask about, Jesus Christ, they ask about Julian -  _ would the game’s outcome be different if Julian was playing? _

Danny could counter back with  _ well, the game might’ve been different if Cookie didn’t get blindsided. It might’ve been different if we converted on that trick play. It might’ve been different if we capitalized on the pick. It might’ve been different if a lot of things happened.  _ Because Danny doesn’t know if it would’ve made a difference or if Julian would’ve made a difference. He doesn’t know and it sucks that they’re making him think about ‘what ifs’.

He could answer like that, but he doesn’t. He just shrugs and answers, “Maybe. But, at the end of the day, he wasn’t out there and we needed to play better than we did.”

He isn’t sure when football became like this; when reporters asked questions like these that don’t really have anything to do with the football game. He’s finally understanding why Bill hates them all so much.

They ask him about Brandin too, if he’s okay, and that’s another thing that he doesn’t know. “I don’t know,” He answers honestly. “I haven’t heard anything about him.”

He answers more questions that have less to do with the actual game and then he’s free. Julian is waiting for him and his eyes look red-rimmed, but he smiles and tries to look encouraging.

“Hey,” Julian greets quietly. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

It was. It was bad and it hurt every time they asked a question he needed to answer, and he heard Chris giving his own interview and hurt for him too. “It wasn’t good.”

“Let’s go.”

The ride is awful, Danny can’t even imagine what the plane ride will be like, but he has a couple of hours with Julian away from the public eye, he doesn’t need to be worrying about the plane.

“Come on,” Julian coaxes, pulling Danny into the bathroom. “You want a shower, I know you do,” He lowers his voice, mock seductive. “I’ll even come in with you.”

It makes Danny breathe out a tiny laugh. He nods because Julian is right. Julian helps him undress, ignoring his indignant noises, and then undresses himself and leads them into the shower. There’s steam already billowing from the hot water and fogging the glass door.

Danny doesn’t do much, just kind of stands there and lets Julian wash his hair and everything else.

“You can cry, you know,” Julian says.

“Yeah,” He breathes out. He doesn’t want to cry though, but his eyes have been teary since walking off that field and Julian is looking at him with such adoring, sincere eyes. “Yeah.” He says again, his voice cracking this time as he shuts his eyes. He always read that water would disguise tears, but it doesn’t. His tears feel scalding.

He’s not a loud crier, never has been, but his shoulders still shake with the intensity of the sobs that get wrenched from his chest and drag like broken glass up his throat. He’s heaving breaths in and out in and out in and out when his tongue tastes burning salt and it makes him cry harder because he feels weak and it hurts.

Julian lets him cry; rubs his back and shushes him gently, holds him while they’re standing under the spray of hot water, wiping away the hotter tears from his face. Danny is surprised to see Julian crying.

“Why’re you crying?” He asks, blinking past the tears and dripping water.

“Because you’re hurting,” Julian answers, voice thick. “And I can’t do anything to make it better.”

Danny shakes his head, hugging him. “You don’t need to. You’re here, that’s all I need right now.”

Julian doesn’t respond, but Danny knows he’s understood. Julian turns off the water once they’ve stopped crying and Danny is thankful the mirror is too fogged up from the steam for him to see how much of a mess he looks.

They dry themselves off and then Julian is putting Danny in sweatpants and a hoodie that is definitely the blonde’s and not his and pushing him into bed, crawling in behind him. He situates himself so he’s mostly on top of Julian, resting his head on Julian’s chest.

“How are you doin’?” Julian asks.

“I’m...doing,” Danny responds in a whisper. He can feel Julian smile into his still damp hair. “I’m going to remember this feeling forever, aren’t I?”

“Yeah. Just like how you’ll remember winning those two Super Bowls,”

“Like how I’ll remember when you said you loved me for the first time.” He says tiredly, quietly.

Julian holds him a bit tighter. “Exactly.” His voice sounds fond and it warms Danny’s heart.

He sighs, burrows further into Julian’s chest. It’s a little awkward because they’re the same height, but Julian just holds him and whispers, “It’ll be okay,” over and over.

 

The next morning is worse. There are headlines on headlines about how the team is getting torn apart. And it doesn’t feel too far off from the truth. Everyone is quiet, no one is relaxed, and none of them seem too sure about their future in New England. Danny hasn’t touched any social media, barely even using his phone except for when his parents called him. He hates that they hurt too. Too many people are hurting and no one can do anything about it except get over it.

No one really knew how to act when they all saw each other again getting on the plane. Chris smiles at him and Julian tiredly and shrugs. Tom looks exhausted, more so than usual, and all Danny can think to do is squeeze his shoulder as he passes him. Rob looks like he’s a little bit more back to his normal, cheerful self, but there’s still a weariness that looks like it’s pressed down on the tight end’s shoulders and Danny can’t help but think that it doesn’t belong there, that it should never belong there. Dion looks asleep, but Danny has a feeling he might be pretending so no one talks to him.

Julian lets Danny curl up around him in the seats. He’s not tired, but he feels bone tired. And he knows this isn’t the end of the world, that there’s next season if he’s still here, that this is what football is, but it only helps it so much.

“Winning wouldn’t be any fun if we never lost, huh,” He says, voice barely above a whisper.

Julian hums. “Can’t have one without the other.”

“I love you.”

Julian presses a kiss on the top of his head. “I love you too.”

 

There are fans waiting for them at the airport, crowded around each other in the cold, cheering when they see them and holding up signs. It’s more than enough to bring tears to Danny’s eyes again because, god, these are just the best fans in the world, fuck everyone else who thinks they’re all bandwagon fans.

It seems to lift everyone’s spirits a little bit. The players and coaches smile at the crowd, getting more cheers and it’s all so heartwarming and heartbreaking; bittersweet because he wishes they could’ve brought them a Lombardi back instead of a loss. But these fans, they don’t even seem to care about a trophy, they’re just happy that they all made it this far to begin with, they’re happy for the little things like a winning season and home playoff games. It makes Danny’s tight chest loosen just a little bit.

Chris catches up with them before they leave. “Hey, how’re you guys?”

Danny shrugs. “As good as the circumstances warrant,”

“How are you?” Julian asks. “First Super Bowl loss is always the worst.”

“Ah, you know. It fucking sucks. But I’m just remembering how I’ve never even been to the playoffs in back to back seasons...I’m just trying to relish in the fact that I got to play in two Super Bowls when a few years ago I was in Buffalo without any hope of getting into the playoffs.” He laughs softly. “It’s unreal, man, you know?”

Danny does know. He felt the same way when he got here, riddled with injuries his first season, but the feeling of being in the playoffs after never having even gotten close before in St. Louis, it was intoxicating. “I know,” He answers. He smiles and it feels genuine for the first time. “We’ll see you in the offseason.” He assures.

Chris smiles back. “You better. My kids would be upset and come after you if you didn’t.”

They laugh and it feels almost normal as they say bye to each other and part ways.

 

Home is nice, it’s warm and safe and a place where nothing can really hurt him. They don’t bother unpacking, just drop their bags at the door and then Julian’s kissing him.

“Mmph,” He groans, pressing back against him. “What was that for?” He asks once they pull away.

“What, I can’t kiss my boyfriend?” Julian jokes.

He laughs. “I guess you can.” He presses a quick kiss against Julian’s lips.

The blonde smiles and then his eyes turn concerned. “Are you okay? Really?” He asks.

Danny nods. “Yes. I mean, I’m not jumping over the moon, but I’ll be okay,” He smiles. “Just can’t watch and ESPN until the Draft.”

Julian rolls his eyes. “I’m sure I can find something to occupy your time,”

“Can you now?”

He nods, pulling Danny into their bedroom. “Yeah.”

“God, I love you,” Danny mumbles against the other’s lips.

“I love you too.”

Julian helps him...not forget, but helps him remember that, no, they’re not going to wake up dead tomorrow, even though it feels like it a little bit. It’s not so heart wrenching as before, because, even when they don’t always feel like it, they are a team. They’re more than a team. They’re family. Win, lose, they do it together. And he’ll be able to do it next season with Julian in the huddle with him. 

It’s not nearly as good as a win, but as he watches Julian’s face disappear between his legs, it’s hard to feel anything but lucky that he has this beautiful person in bed with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the people who encouraged me to write this! And yeah, I'm not gonna be watching much ESPN or NFL Network until the Draft. Petty, maybe, but whatever.


End file.
